


uncertainty

by orphan_account



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Slow Build, Slow Romance, mcchurchley, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: basically just a sweet mcchurchley oneshot because there's not enough content of them and holy fuck I love this rare pairalso thanks to my pal journey for being the only other person shipping them with me 🥺✌(note; I realized way too late that they don't share a room, so for the sake of the plot (and my sanity), let's just say they do haha)
Relationships: Elder Church/Elder "Connor" McKinley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	uncertainty

It was, as usual, another hot day in Uganda, the wind swirling up the dust of the dry ground, up into the just as dry air.

It meant it was like every other day for James. Plain, uninteresting, bland. With no one to talk to or something to do. Well, except for their daily chores. However, Elder Church had better things to do.

Sitting in an almost yellow pack of grass, right underneath a tree that gave just enough shade to completely hide his body from the burning sun, he used the time he had to stare after his fellow group members who were working off their asses as they got exposed to the heat of the day, hoping for some kind of cloud to move in front of the glowing ball of terror in the sky. Keyword asses; that's what he mostly stared after. Not in a sexual way, no, if he'd catch himself actually doing that, he'd need a cold shower, but rather concerned. Why concerned you may ask? Well, lately, something in the boys' busy mindset had changed. Perhaps he's been looking differently at people. Those people being his fellow elders or just boys in general. It was weird for him to say the least.

He had never experienced any kind of romantic, nor sexual attraction to anyone. He was always too busy burying his nose inside his books, or scribbling on the sides of his worksheets, or whatever took him by his interest. He may have felt some sort of tension sometimes - when he or another boy had changed near him, but never thought much of it and just thought it was simple peer pressure. But that changed lately. A lot even. His heart picked up in speed when he had certain people around him, or his face started burning from how hard he was blushing. James tended to brush it off and ignore his poor heart that begged for attention, though even he had his moments of utter despair in which he just wanted to go and-

what _did_ he want to do?

Clueless as ever, he looked down at the notes he took earlier, doodles decorating the rather empty page that he'd need to fill until they were done. If only he was actually helping his companions; since all he had been doing was sit under that tree and watch them all day long. He didn't see the point in doing chores when his pale skin would be burned alive out there. He pushed his glasses up against his nose, when suddenly an all too familiar figure walked up to him. 'Great', he thought as the redhead neared.

"Elder Church?" the boy with his elegant, slim frame asked, the sweat clearly dripping from his forehead as he put his shovel away. His usually bouncy hair slightly stuck to him, but still managed to look good on him. James bit his lip, because he knew what was gonna come. "Why aren't you working?" he asked, sounding sweeter than he had expected.

"I'm taking notes as you can see." He held the block up to his friend for a mere second, before shoving it in his lap again.

"That still doesn't explain why you aren't working."

McKinley sheepishly sat down next to him then, wiping his head and drying his now wet palm on his pants. He examined the other boy a little to get at least a bit of a hint of what could be distracting the boy so much that he wouldn't even work.

"Come on Elder, tell me or I'll wake you up with water tomorrow." He joked in an obviously friendly manner, a chuckle escaping his kind of sore throat, his fingers teasing at the hem of Church's shirt.

"It's nothing," the boy replied with a bit of spite in his tone. "just go away."

Ah, there it was. The staggeringly increasing heartbeat, the flushed face, the uncertainty in his voice. Something that normally only used to happen on very rare occasions, but now happened more and more frequently. It happened so quickly that James didn't even have the chance to hide it. He prayed to the lord above - if he even really existed - that his dear roommate and district leader didn't notice it.

Connor stayed silent for a moment, picking the grass off the ground and playing with it, then sat up and leaned on his elbows. "Elder Church, if there's something you need to talk about, then-"

"I said go _away_."

Taken aback by James' angry reply, almost as if it was an angry dog growling at him, yet owning enough self-control to restrain himself, he gave his friend a sharp glance and then got up from his spot, patting the dust off his back.

"Well, if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

And then, James was left alone again, eyeing the other warily as he disappeared from the nice shady place under the acacia tree behind him.

That's exactly what he means when he says he's changed a ton lately. James isn't used to spitting back like that, with such passive-aggressive answers he didn't know he could turn into sentences. It almost frightened him, as he didn't like seeing that side of himself destroy everything he's built up over the past few months. He can't control what his heart feels though. Weirdly enough, it makes his stomach drop and fly up in unison somehow, and make nimble fingers tremble in-between the grass strands that cushioned him as he fell deeper into that hole of doubt. Doubt, that he wasn't a good friend after all, and doubt that he wasn't as sin-free as he always thought. He pursed his lip and picked up his pen, scribbled away the hearts he subtly drew next to a certain boys' name, and then got up.

* * *

Later that same day, in the evening hours, instead of helping with dinner - as he'd normally do, he went straight to his shared room, kicking off his shoes and such, getting ready to go to bed early today, but McKinley could play that game too as he'd later realize.

He spent some time reading his favorite book tonight, consuming the pages and words like they were his last to read. If you didn't know yet, James had a strange passion for reading. Even back when he was still in school, he used to spend each and every recess with his nose deep inside a book's pages. He loved reading about someone else's story. With a better, maybe even worse life than the one that he lived. It helped him cope with what happened at home every other night. It helped him forget about the other boys that he desperately wanted to talk to and get to know more.

It was his way of living a peaceful life for a little longer than he was allowed to. It also helped him improve his writing! Whenever they got an assignment, for example, write a letter or a short story, James was the best and fastest in his class. Some thought it was weird, some wanted his help. But in the end, he was very proud of his work. Conveying his feelings in letters was just easier than speaking it out loud. He couldn't stumble over his own words that way. 

Skipping through the pages, unbothered like he wasn't even reading the book, he heard footsteps coming closer to his room, making him look up for a moment, then look back at the book he was invested in. There was a quiet knock.

"..Hmm?" he hummed.

The wooden door slowly opened, creaking as it scratched over the uneven floor, and to nobody's surprise, it was Connor, who held a small bowl in his hand. James wondered what he could be doing here, as it was dinner time and he'd never miss out on dinner - especially as the district leader. The redhead took slow steps towards him and the scent was definitely a recognizable one. It was his world-famous spaghetti that he always put so much time and love into. The raven-haired boy let the smell wrap itself around his head, an unexpected smile creeping onto his face that he tried to turn down but just couldn't. He watched the other sit down in front of him, the bowl now sitting in his lap as he carefully held it.

"I thought I'd bring you something too. I know how much ya love my spaghetti." Connor explained and reached it to him, and if that didn't make James' heart stop for a moment, he didn't know what did. He put his book aside and grabbed it, using the fork to swirl the noodles around a few times. He normally didn't enjoy much company, but McKinley he could trust.   
  


"So." The redhead began.  
  


"..So?"  
  


"Can we talk?"  
  
  
James knew this conversation was inevitable and necessary, but that didn't mean he was ready for it.  
  
  
"What.. do you mean?"

  
"You know what I mean."

  
Elder Church wordlessly took a bite from his food, wrapping the noodles around the fork by twisting it inside the bowl.

  
"I don't think I know." He retorted and stiffened a little.

  
"Why have you been so distant lately? This is very unlike you, Elder. I'm worried."

  
It was true. He has been distancing himself from the others, for obvious reasons. It made him highly uncomfortable, and his heart would always sink to the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to explore those feelings badly, and knew that none of his friends could really judge him now that they were excommunicated anyways. But it still plagued him. He just wanted to be open about his feelings. Talk about it all. Be honest. But that was harder than it seemed.

  
"Oh, I just haven't been.. feeling that well. It's nothing to worry about. Ever since the whole mission president thing happened, I've been feeling a little stressed I think."  
  
  
A blatant lie - something that used to give him the worst kind of hell dream back then, but now it was part of his day and routine.

  
"Are you sure? Do you want me to get Gotswana to check on you maybe?"

  
"No!" he quickly yelped and immediately regretted his decision. Connor moved back, his eyes big and wary.

  
"I mean- I don't think it'd be necessary to get Gotswana involved. I'm fine, just..."

  
"No, no, it's fine. I get it."

  
After that, there's a long, bitter period of silence, awkward staring, and you know, the whole package. And James' hunger was gone too by then. He put the bowl aside for now and glanced back at Elder McKinley, who had a sad, dense smile tugging at his lips. He picked the sheets of his mattress for a good while, and then leaned upwards, getting up from his spot.

  
"Well, if you feel like talking anyway then- just tell me. I'm gonna be here to listen."

  
He approached the wooden door like before, slowly opening it to not startle his friend nor make the situation any worse.

  
"I'll tell the others that you're sick."

  
The door closed, and James was back to being alone.

  
God, it was so frustrating. How was it possible that every time someone offered him to be true to himself for once, that he declined it and scared them off? He genuinely felt bitter about it. No, he was fucking upset at this point. He wanted to smash his book against his head. Wanted to clench his fists around a piece of paper and rip it apart to compensate with his stupid feelings. Wanted to have a fit and show everyone that - _hey look! James Church is done with being a good Mormon boy_. But he couldn't do any of that. He didn't want to scare off anyone and it was late as hell. And if the others caught him crying now he could never face them again. Crying isn't what boys do. Crying means you're weak. He isn't weak.

Tired of his endless train of thoughts barging in on him, he laid into the bed and put his glasses aside, then pulled the blanket towards his chest and turned the light off.

He hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.

* * *

The next morning was sadly worse.

Firstly, he woke up what felt like a thousand times that night. He was always drenched in sweat and his heart was beating like hell. And weirdly enough, the first thing he checked for when he woke up was if his roommate Connor was there, and if he was still sleeping soundly right next to him. It was somehow the only way to calm him down in those situations. He was sure he had some sort of nightmares waking him up all the time, but his mind always felt too cloudy to remember after waking up.

Secondly, after all these times of waking up, the second to last time was the worst one. His warm sweat instantly turned cold the second he jumped up in his bed, a sore shriek escaping his frail body as his heart raced and almost popped in his chest. He held his hand against his chest, almost fainting when a sudden ringing noise blasted in his ears and through his forehead. He held himself for a moment, then felt his instincts kick in and he looked over to the other bed. No one. Connor wasn't there anymore, and he was immediately back to panicking. Oh, how much he wished he could've cried now, but first he needed to look for and find the redhead.

Getting up from his bed and stumbling towards the door, James hurried outside and looked around the small building, checking the bathroom, kitchen, and last but not least the living room, and thank god that's where he found him. With.. coffee?

"Elder McKinley?" he asked and quirked a brow, to which the other responded by hurriedly spitting the drink back into the mug he was holding, almost choking as he put it down on the table in front of him.

  
"Jesus Christ Elder Church! Don't you know how to announce yourself?" the boy sighed and looked over in distress. He didn't expect anyone to catch him at such an ungodly hour, specifically right when he is drinking coffee.

  
"Is that coffee?"

  
"Do you want some?"

  
"What?!" James freaked out at the dry thought of drinking something as bad as coffee. Not like he ever really tried it, but he heard from Elder Price that it's bitter yet disgustingly refreshing without sugar. He wasn't sure if he wanted to try it right then and there, at 4:30 am with his district leader of all people, so the situation was more than uncomfortable for him.

  
"You look tired, is all. I thought you want some too."

  
"I- I mean-"

  
The Mormon boy looked down at the floor for a moment, silently contemplating whether to try his first-ever coffee today or just leave and go back to bed. Apparently he spent a little too long staring, because not much later, Connor sighed and got up, walking towards the kitchen, and James assumed that yep, this is gonna be his first-ever coffee.

He gently sat down on the brown couch in the meantime, his legs pressed together neatly as he rubbed his feet together. He felt so weird waiting for the other come back. It felt like there was a hole in his chest, and he missed him somehow, even though he was a mere room away. He hadn't felt like this before, and he didn't know if he wanted to embrace it, either. Nonetheless, he smiled when McKinley came rushing back with an iced coffee in his hand.

  
"I put some ice and sugar in it. I don't know what kind of coffee you would like or prefer, so I just went after my instincts here. And I don't think that with the amount of sweat on your body that you'd want to drink hot coffee." Connor chuckled sweetly and sat down next to James, reaching him the cup of coffee and taking his own again.

  
"Uh, yeah. That's- that's okay I think."

  
He watched Connor sip on his coffee like it was nothing, and decided to try his own too now, bringing the edge up to his lips and taking a small, then big sip. It tasted better than expected, but he still cringed a little at the aftertaste. They sat like that for a while and quietly drank their coffees, until McKinley broke the silence, like he always does.

  
"So, why are you up?"

  
"What do you mean?"  
  
  
"You know, it's another 2 hours until we're supposed to be up. So why are you awake?" Connor insisted this time, unlike before. Church felt himself stiffen at that question and tried to move away a bit, but not quick enough as Connor had already laid a hand on his thigh, then knee, and then moved him right back to face him. "Don't even think of running away, Church."

  
James stared at the hand on his knee for a moment, glancing back and forth between the other's face and arm, before gently putting it off his knee, on the couch, and feeling a slight twist in his stomach as he did so. It was a bitter feeling that he chose to repress once again, but he just wasn't ready for this conversation.

  
"I can't tell you." he trailed off and moved backward on the couch.

  
"But why?"

  
"None of your business."

  
That may have come out a little meaner than his other answers, more direct and declining, but he did what he had to do. Or at least what felt right.

  
Connor's expression was barely readable in contrast to James' sharp frown. He looked sad and confused, possibly even hurt.

  
"I... You know you can trust me, right?"

  
No answer.

  
".. James-" he reached out this time, his hand almost brushing the others, but that just started a chain-reaction, where said boy leaned further back and proceeded to hurry out of this conversation before it'd get worse.

  
"I'm going to bed."

  
Connor was then left alone on the couch, two cups of coffee in his hands as he looked after James, then down at his lap. How badly he wanted to get the other to speak about his problems was almost upsetting. He finished his coffee, and then put the mugs away, hiding the bag of coffee powder in the very back of their sweets cabinet.

  
' _Maybe another time_ ' he thought.

* * *

After what happened earlier with Connor, James felt absolutely devastated. He didn't mean to get loud or hurt his friend by any means. It was a bad accident. Probably? He wasn't sure. What did he know anyway? All he knew is that he didn't want to get up that day. Just lay in bed and curl up and read a book while he's at it. Something to concentrate on that wasn't about how much of an idiotic friend he is. A side of him was glad that he didn't have to face Connor again up until the point where he was called in for breakfast. He couldn't miss out on two meals in a row. But the other side longed badly for the redhead. Longed for his sweetness. Longed for the way he could always cheer the boy up - or at least make his heart beat faster than anyone else could. James would do and give anything just to have a minute or two alone with him. Completely alone. Not having to fear that someone might walk in on them.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, his hand hiding his blushing face from no one. "what am I thinking?.."

He gently pushed himself up on his elbows, then onto his palms, and examined the room for a moment. His mind felt awfully empty as he glanced at his friends bed and noticed how messy yet tidy it looked. The sheets were crumpled up and about to fall off the end of the bed, the single pillow that everyone had sitting on the edge, also about to fall on the floor. However, it looked super comfortable and nice to lay in. James wondered why exactly Elder McKinley didn't make his bed that morning - more importantly why he got up so early to drink coffee, but didn't feel like asking. He just respected his privacy and shook his head to get rid of the thought. He finally moved his legs out of the bed and took quick steps towards their shared closet, gathering his clothes and getting ready. If it wasn't for the already shining sun that shone directly onto his bed, he would've gone back to bed - but ruining his eyes whenever the sun would shine exactly into his eyes wasn't in his interest. He could barely see without glasses anyway, so why make it worse?

Then, when he was fully dressed, a very sudden, unexpected wave ran through his body and sorta paralyzed him on the spot. He was still scared of confronting Connor after their.. conversation. He didn't even want to look at him today. He felt like his heart was gonna pop and explode in his chest if he did. Or that he might break down and lose any self-control he had and tell him things that might be too much for him to understand. He didn't want to scare him off, but neither did he want to lose him just because he can't speak his mind freely. Why did this all have to be so hard?

' _Come on_ ', he thought to himself. ' _it's just breakfast. And I don't need to look at him._ '

Carefully grabbing the door handle, he pulled it open and looked through the hallway. He heard plates and other kitchen utensils hitting the table in the room next to him, and realized how late he was. Should he go and eat with them nonetheless? He hated it when people stared at him like he just ruined everybody's mood. And when he's the last to join the group it's always like they're judging him with their looks. And James seriously thought he was the intimidating one. Taking a very slow step outside and closing the door behind him, he wondered if he was making the right decision here. He was hungry for sure, but he could just get something later when everyone's gone, couldn't he? But then again, McKinley isn't here to play games, is he?

James grunted and lightly smacked his head back against the door.

"I hate this."

After spending almost another 5 minutes of plain pondering, he managed to straighten himself again and join the other elders in the kitchen, maintaining hard eye-to-floor contact as he walked in. It quieted down for a mere second, but then the Mormon boys just got back to what they were doing and talked with one another like nothing was wrong. Church was shocked, but just sat down on his seat next to Elder Thomas and Elder Schrader and looked at his plate that held two pieces of toast that he could put whatever topping on now. He glanced across the table and mentally noted that they'd need to stock up on pop-tarts and nutella soon, but wasn't actually that interested in what he'd eat that morning. He was more interested in looking for Connor, who would normally sit right in front of him at the table, however today he sat at a completely different spot. Presumably to stay out of James' way, which he somewhat appreciated, but also despised. Why would he hide from him like that? The boy almost wanted to ask to switch places with someone to be closer to him, but his poor heartbeat increased just from thinking about it.

That's when he noticed the boy was staring at him, sympathetic eyes looking into his own that he tried to avoid by looking somewhere else, and he silently thanked God when Elder Price made a loud announcement in which he talked about how much work they did yesterday and how excited he is for today. That more Africans were interested in their quote-unquote 'cult'. Not quite the right wording, but they got the spirit. That reminded James - he didn't do anything yesterday. He let his peers do all the work while he sat in the shade and wasted his time with lots of thinking about how his feelings have been affecting him and his friends. How he started seeing the world in different colours for the first time. Like everything was black and white before, and now it was all so colourful but yet to be explored. He was.. scared. And he wouldn't have appreciated anything more than help right now. But speaking was hard. _Talking_ was hard.

'You can always talk to me.' the sentence echoed in his ears like a sick mantra that he wanted to forget. And then those stupid blue eyes locked with his once more.

The expression Connor chose to rely on to build contact again reminded him of his mother. She'd give him the same puppy eyes whenever he felt too afraid to go to school. Whenever he was afraid to leave her alone with his 'dad' again. Whenever he'd cry and she'd tell him to stop so he wouldn't get hurt. He used to have a burning hatred for those eyes, because they always deceived him. Nowadays, he longed for nothing else but to see those exact eyes again. And when he saw them on Connor's face, it was like a stinging sensation in his chest that then spread throughout the rest of his body and froze him in place. No. No, he couldn't cry now. They'll just make fun of him if he shows his vulnerability in front of them. He pulled his bottom lip in and bit down as hard as he could to prevent himself from crying, but as soon as the first tear ran down his face, there was no turning back. He hasn't cried in forever, and from what he could still decipher through blurred eyes, his friend was just as shocked when he saw the tears rolling down his cheeks, and then those that kept coming.

James watched the boy stand up, and that was the moment the other elders noticed too.

"Elder Church, why are you crying?"

"Are you okay?"

"What's wrong?"

Connor was just about to take the boy into his arms, but instead had to watch James quickly get up and run away from any sort of love that he could be receiving if he only gave in to it. 

James ran from his problems once again - but now the others knew that something was certainly wrong too. His first thought said to just go back to his room again, hide under the blankets and never leave that safe space again. That thought instantly erased itself though and instead got swapped with a better idea - the bathroom. He could lock himself inside it, it had cold water to clean his face with, and there was a tub to lay in if he felt like it. So in the hallway, he worked out the fastest route and plunged in the bathroom's direction, closing the door harshly behind him and falling back against it as soon as it was locked. As the tears continued to spill, he felt his knees weaken under his weight, and soon enough slid down the doors smooth surface, hand holding onto the key he just used to lock it with.

There was so much he needed to get off his chest, but not any people he trusted with all his heart. Except for Connor.

Connor with his sweet smile. Connor with his genuine laugh. Connor with his stupidly shy but very prominent innuendo's. Connor with his entire being that fascinated James so much he wanted to know more about him. He remembered what it felt like getting into the same group as Connor back then, and how excited they were, and how lucky they were to have each other in a whole different country that held so many dangers - which they all stood tall against together. Whenever one of them felt troubled, they knew they had one another. They used to talk a lot in the evenings, and sometimes even tell stories that happened to them past their bedtime. Sometimes for hours.

But that changed after their mission became more stressful and they were told they'd have to send a fully written progress-report to the mission president. When Connor was practically flooded with thousands and thousands of papers and letters that he all had to answer and write back to. He once spent an entire night replying to them, and James did not like that kind of behavior from him at all. Not only did he hate being alone, but the thought of his friend overworking himself until he found him passed out on the table the next morning... hurt. But it also made him sorta... swoon? - to see him sleeping so peacefully on that stack of papers, head on his arms.

He never liked admitting things. In fact, he'd rather work in the burning sun again than state the truth. And it's always been like that. Admitting that he was wrong meant failure, and he couldn't take that - at all. Like his father used to say, "come home with a bad grade and you know what'll happen". If he was wrong, it meant he failed. And if he failed, it meant he or his mother would get beaten up. And he didn't want either of that. So he worked. And he worked. And worked and worked and kept his feelings down until he got used to it. Because that's what good Mormon boys do. They don't have a reason to be sad.

James sobbed bitterly into his knees, trembling and feeling his facade fall apart at its seams. He isn't the boy he used to be, he knew that. But he didn't like this type of change. It was all happening so quickly and abruptly, he didn't even get the chance to have some kind of control over it. Now everyone would mark him off as that one Mormon boy who openly cried during breakfast like the whimsy, sad kid he is.

  
  
 _"No!"_ he used to shout at them when they pushed him into his marine-blue locker, _"I'm not gay! Whoever told you that is a liar!"_

Teenagers can be so cruel, and James remembers that time too well. His belly churned at the thought of middle school. At the thought of the kids who used to bully him so much, he'd hide, just like now, in the boys' bathroom and wait it out. 'till they'd go away. 'till he was done with crying and sulking into his fabrics.

He waited, sat, trembled, and cried for a few more minutes, before he heard a soft knock on the door behind him.

"You can stay in today."

* * *

His room - well, 'his' in quotation marks, but his room was his safe place. After the other elders left for work and their daily routines, he found himself back under his soft, gray blanket. One that he secretly packed and brought with him to Africa after he was told that he'd spent the next two years basically on his own. It reminded him of the warmth his mother always brought him even in the darkest and coldest of nights. The way he could snuggle into it was amazing and most definitely the only item that could calm him down whenever he was alone. And it was exactly what it managed to do again, this time.

The blanket laid gently on top of him, somewhat keeping the undescribable heat coming from the sun away, containing enough of that on its own. His hands were sweating heavily though, as the book in his hands kept running through his long and bony fingers. How was he supposed to read like this? He put the book down for what felt like the tenth time that morning and wiped his hands on his mattress, intertwining them and then cracking them as they faced outwards. He leaned up a little, and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It read 1 pm. What? That late already? Did he really spend all morning long just reading his book? To be fair, it was a good one - a favorite of his. But it still shocked him.

He moved up further and leaned against the headboard, pressing against it longingly as he recalled the events of this morning, and how vividly he remembered them. That morning felt like a fever dream to him. It was so unnatural - especially the fact that he had cried. It just seemed fake. It seemed like he was gonna wake up any minute now. But here he was, awake, alive, and still an emotional wreck. All those feelings that he pushed down for way too long suddenly stated bursting through his veins as if he had just begun feeling emotions like that. It made him sick. A good sick. The kind of sick that'd feel relieving once you get it out. The kind of sick that'd make your head feel like a boombox, which would blast horrible silence through your ears, that was now finally shut off. He felt all sorts of emotions, in all earnestness. He felt, obviously, alleviated. He also felt warm. And soothed. But there was another feeling he still couldn't quite put his finger on. It left him baffled, and god only knew how much he hated that feeling.

Well, if he didn't know the feeling, it wasn't important, was it? What could a fast pounding, bitterly hurting heart mean anyway?

Just as he was about to sink back into the bed and continue reading, he heard the front door open, and hurried elders stormed inside. He really didn't need another confrontation, so he decided to sit it out, but as the footsteps right in front of his door became louder and louder, so did his heart. He could hear a distinct ringing in his ears, making his stomach perform multiple front-flips inside him and he desperately missed being trapped in the bathroom now. He dry heaved for a moment and decided to hide under his blanket as always. His big, fluffy, comforting blanket, that would never disappoint him. He pulled the blanket over his head and proceeded to hold onto his pillow, barely fitting his head on it, but being able to completely wrap his arms around it.

It was silent for a moment, some doors closing and opening before it went completely quiet, and James was able to hear his own breath being stuck in his throat. Then the door opened.

"Elder Church? Are you awake?" the voice called out carefully, stepping inside. "We're having lunch in a few minutes."

James could definitely feel a worried gaze on his back, and if he could, he'd cringe and sink into the sheets now. But albeit, if he'd do that, Connor would most likely try and start another conversation. Which he did not need. He didn't need to talk. There was absolutely no need to.

He continued to listen intently nevertheless, the sound of formal, black shoes tapping on the wooden ground and inching closer ever so slowly. It was horribly tantalizing in some way. He wanted to turn around and look so damn badly. See what Connor was doing and where he was going, but his body was stuck in this position, harshly glued to the sheets. As soon as he saw the shadow on the wall and floor in front of him, he immediately shut his eyes, slowed his breathing down until it almost came to a stop and put all his trust into that. He hoped, no, prayed that McKinley wouldn't notice the shallow yet quick breaths he took. Prayed that he wouldn't notice the freshly opened book on the other side of his bed. Prayed that he looked like he was actually sleeping and not just playing a game of pretend right there.

Then he heard an entirely new noise. A humming noise. The other boy was humming a sweet lullaby of sorts, a random melody pressing through his lips as he apparently walked through the small room, putting things away from what James could make out. He seemed to be tapping around with his shoes in sync to what he was humming, acting kinda.. childishly? It was new to James. Stuff like that only happened on very rare occasions. So rare that the last time James could vaguely remember it happening being back at the missionary training center. Then he heard some shuffling behind him. It sounded like he was organizing something - maybe he did the laundry and was putting their clothes away? Ah, typical Connor, he thought and smiled a little. Not too much, but it just tugged on his lips oh so mockingly, and he couldn't help himself.

Little did he know, Connor saw it all. In fact, he was watching him the entire time from his own bed, eyeing him like a baby in a crib. He smiled and scoffed, "Oh, if only he was awake. Then I could show him this new book I got for him."

No, no, why would he do something so mean and unfair to him? Using two of James' only weaknesses against him was honestly barbaric, one of them being Connor's soothingly warm voice, and the other being his soft-spot for books. He chewed painstakingly hard on his bottom lip, dragging it in with his teeth and letting it drop back into place again for god knows how long, until his heart and body both gave in to Connor's games. His eyes opened softly, and he tried to make it look like he 'just woke up', which he of course didn't, but tried anyway and turned around on his bed, then warily faced the other. And if that face didn't speak more than at least a hundred, maybe even a thousand words, he didn't know what did. A grin so simple yet sassy it could destroy Church's entire facade once again. Eyes so blue and crystal clear, and lashes batted to fit the look of pure audaciousness, that it made his mouth run dry at the sight. There was no way he could explain himself, was there?

"Good morning Elder." The boy said in his softest tone and had this iconic, pretty smile on his face, which quickly dropped when he noticed the heavy bags around the others' eyes. "Will you finally talk to me?"

"Leave me alone." James grumpily replied, both because in reality, there was no book, and because he still didn't want to talk. He threw the blanket over his head again and turned again, not bothering when the blanket lifted behind him and exposed him to the cold. However, McKinley could play that game too.

"I'm not gonna leave my own room."

As soon as he completely faced the other side, thinking he was safe and snuggling back into his pillow which guaranteed him some sort of comfort-zone he could dig himself into, there was a pair of legs in front of him. Easily identifiable legs that belonged to the boy that made his heart ache in the worst way possible. He watched the boy kneel and lean forward a little on his elbows, which kept him from falling over, then heard him speak.

"There's something you need to talk about, Elder Church, and I am here to listen. Whether you like it or not." He gently took James' hand into his, enveloping it with his fingers as he softly rubbed along the lines in his palm. "You don't need to hide anymore."

It was his time to choose, and god, did it suck. He sincerely wanted to let it all pour out of his heart. Out of the chamber he kept underground for much too long it began hurting a while ago. Out of that stupid, tightly sealed vault that made him sick to the point he could only throw up and or cry. But how exactly was he supposed to do that? All his life, people told him that feelings are saved for girls. That only girls could swoon over others. That only girls could openly cry because they're weak and not as strong as boys. That he'd get laughed at if he'd cry just because boys don't feel. And the punches and slaps he gained from his father only proved that. He remembered having to go to school with a black eye once and having to explain that he just got into a little fistfight with some boys from the class next to him, and that it was nothing the teachers or the students should worry about. And the worst thing about it was that everyone believed his bullshit. But in reality, he got a fist into his face for crying again. Which, back then, felt self-explainable. But now felt like a nightmare.

He is afraid, and will probably forever be. When Connor's hand was on his, however, it was like that lightswitch he had mentally flipped off for years now - just turned back on, a familiar rush of emotions backing him into a corner. 

"I don't want to talk. Now leave me alone."

He thought that that'd be it. That the topic was over now. That he could go back to sulking now as he swiftly turned back around. And that surprisingly worked for an acceptable amount of time, but, like aforementioned, two could play that game. And so, just as he began to feel 'comfortable' again, wrapped up entirely and neatly in his blanket, the pillow back in place under his head, he felt another weight on the bed right behind him. The mattress sank into itself slightly where his spine began, and continued to sink as the weight shifted from one end to the other, until whatever it was settled down and laid an unexpected arm around him. James was sure that he felt his heart skip a beat or two when the other boy wrapped himself around him, his breath getting stuck in his throat for a moment as he twitched. He looked behind him for less than a second, then turned back to face the bed on the opposite side of the room.

It took him some time to get used to the feeling of another person pressed up snugly against him - to get used to being so intimate with someone who hadn't even heard his entire story yet. But it felt unbelievably soothing. Soothing and warm. And conscious. He thought he'd reject his touch like he always did, but something kept him from pushing him away again this time. Something that has been building up in him for a long long time. Something he's been repressing since high- oh, who is he kidding? probably elementary school.

Whilst his male peers would talk about how good Trina looked with her braids today, or that one of them managed to look underneath Brooke's skirt during recess, he'd simply wonder what made them think that girls are so attractive. There was nothing about girls that he found necessarily great, except for the fact that they were friendly and sweet. Although boys - boys he could swoon over until midnight and longer. Boys with their strong hands and their lovely smiles, boys with their stupidly good looking features- but not all boys, no. There was only one boy he really felt all that for, and that special boy was Connor McKinley. Ex-Mormon and leader of district 9, and the most lovely boy James ever had the chance to meet. Now he finally realized;

Connor was the reason his heart always wanted to jump out of his chest when he was near or next to him, which led to him being all bubbly when alone.

Connor was the reason he swooned so much and felt worried at night, and felt the need to check his bed every time he woke up.

Connor was everything he always dreamt of. And he felt so head-over-heels in love.

James silently longed for more- for more touches and more hugging and all the things he couldn't speak out loud, and almost instantly, as if he could read his thoughts, he felt the others' arm tighten around him, pulling him closer as another hand tangled up in his hair and almost made him fall asleep at how soft the fingers felt and moved on his scalp. They loosely scratched his head up and down and Connor's hand curled up in his hair every now and then. It was an odd, even hard to describe emotion that begged to make noise in form of a whimper or mewl, trapped between his lips as he kept it in for now. It wasn't a sexual noise, no - it was rather... a satisfied hum. Like a purr or something. God, just thinking of these type of things made James' face flush in utter shame. But his friend didn't seem to care. All he cared about was giving him the affection he needed. The kind of affection that turned him into a puddle of unknown feelings. And he wasn't going to complain.

The arm wrapped around him more and more as time went by, and there was a question pursing his lips. A question that might ruin the moment, but it was a necessary question. He didn't want to say anything wrong that could possibly make Connor think of him as weird - though this situation was already as weird as it could get. So he just needed to get it out. Now or else he never would.

"What-", he stuttered at first, barely able to form a sentence at this point. "What are you doing?"

Nothing.

"Elder McKinley?"

The grip around his stomach tightened a little, his senses feeling like they're on fire, but it was such an enjoyable fire that he couldn't help but lean further into the other, sinking into his personal little cove like a lion cub. He hasn't shown himself so vulnerable in years. Always thought that being vulnerable is a bad thing. Mostly because it'd be the reason his father would hurt either him or his mom again - something he didn't want, but couldn't really control. Shedding tears in front of his parents meant he'd get beat up. Sharing his feelings was a fatal decision. But Connor- Connor he could trust. Connor, he could wrap himself around and never let go again. Connor, he could cry in front of and show how hurt he is. Connor, he could open himself up with.

Show that he's vulnerable.

That's when tears began to slip and run down his red, puffy cheeks, a brutal sob escaping his sore throat as he started shaking. James trembled horribly much in Connor's arms - not because he was afraid, however. He was trembling, sobbing and holding onto the sheets so harshly because he hadn't felt emotions in so long. Hadn't felt accepted or loved in so long. And now he laid in another's arms like he was the only person to exist next to him. He curled up a little harder, scratching and picking profusely at the sheets until he was turned around to face Connor. Well, the part of Connor he could recognize through blurry eyes. He tried to look up into his eyes, but his own were overflowing so much with salt and water that it almost hurt. Wiping them also didn't do much as they just kept coming. He felt the hand in his hair slowly detangle, then slide down to his chin, grabbing it oh so gently as more sniffs and sobs left him. "Shhh," the other hushed his cries and dried his slick cheeks by wiping them clean. "It's okay buddy."

No, nothing about this was okay. They were way too close to one another. This wasn't what Mormon missionaries were allowed to do at any given time. They were breaking the rules.

"C'mere." Was all the redhead said and then pulled him in completely, James' head and hands pressed against his chest neatly, their bodies melting together like they were made for eachother. He felt so at peace in his arms, that it wasn't very surprising when he suddenly drifted off after a few minutes of pure and gentle hugging. He felt so safe in Connor's arms- he didn't worry if he'd wake up alone. He didn't even care if he'd end up with another hell dream that night. All that counted for him right now was that he wasn't alone for the moment. That he could wholly shut off for a day and let his worries drown under the tears that still escaped his tired eyes.

"It's all gonna be okay."

* * *

The next time James woke up, he was surprised when he woke up to something that wasn't a hell dream for once. No, luckily, it was the evening sun this time, which burst at his dry eyes suddenly and made him wake up. He shimmied onto his other side at that, latently rubbing his eyes and stretching on his bed. He looked around after that and immediately frowned when he realized that he was alone again. No more warmth to embrace him as perfectly as Connor did. He made a little noise, weaved his hand through his hair and then sat up, feeling his spine move into place painfully, making him whine again. He knew he shouldn't have expected it, but who can blame him?

Examining the slightly deepened mattress beside him, he slowly realized that they definitely spent a little longer together on the bed. He could still identify the redhead's earlier outline, and couldn't help but graze his finger along the prominent lines on the linen sheets, pulling his bottom lip in as he leaned back down again for a minute or two, just gripping and playing with the sheets for a while. What really messed with him was the fact that he could barely remember the hug, as he was so overstimulated by all the emotions flowing through his body that moment, he just couldn't think straight. He wished, deeply wished he could recall the events, and just fall back into Connor's arms, but that was probably his only and last time that he could do that. He huffed, and then actually got up, slipping into a pair of slippers and, as he hurried over to the door, snatched a quick glance at the others bed, a mental image forming in his head - what would it feel like hugging him in _his_ bed?

Opening the door to find that the hallway was empty and the house was quiet stunned him for a second. Normally, at least after Arnold became their prophet, they'd still be running around at this time. So he knew something was off, ignored it for now though, and just made his way to the bathroom, where he would get a good look at himself, brush his teeth, and get ready for the night - if he'd even be able to fall asleep again without the other now. It barely took him a few seconds to get used to another person holding him so gently in their arms, that he now desperately had to cling to the thought and even hugged himself for a moment before stepping inside the other room.

The door shut behind him, and he instantly felt the smell of vanilla and deodorant permeate his nose. A scent that he knew Connor loved, so he had no reason to not love it too. Inhaling the cold air, he stepped toward the sink and mirror, and then took a good look at himself, scratched his slightly scruffy cheek and then turned on the faucet, leaning onto the porcelain now. He noticed how messy his hair was, and tried to get it into its usual form by running his hand once again through it, fumbling around a little before it pretty much automatically fell into place. Not too high, not too flat, just perfect. After all, their haircuts had to be precise. He then slowly lowered his head and formed a bowl with his hands, letting the lukewarm water run through his fingers for a short amount of time, before then bringing them up to his face and dunking it into his hands, all the way until his entire face was wet and the dried tears were coming off.

He dried the drops of water on his face with a small towel that hung next to the sink, put it back in its original spot, and then grabbed his cup with his toothbrush and such out of the cabinet behind the mirror, quickly brushing his teeth before eventually, he felt refreshed enough to step out of the bathroom again. The sun was almost completely gone now, and the hallway was much darker than before. He was just going to go back to his room again, maybe wait for Connor while he's at it and finish his book too, but then he thought - why not check and look for the other? Just in case he isn't there and actually needs help. So he, being the guy that he is, took a quick turn in front of his door and went straight for the living room.

He slowly entered said room, which was covered with a relaxing silence, taking slow steps towards the all-too-famous couch that he caught Connor drinking coffee on just a few days ago. And who would've known? Said boy sat on the far right end of the couch, leaning forward, very invested in something from what James could make out, which made him sigh in relief. At least he was here. At least now he could go to bed without having to feel scared again. He smiled to himself and thought about going back to his room now and simply going back to sleep again before the other would be able to notice him, but before he knew it, he was taking gentle strides in the others direction, eyes trained on Connor until he was behind him. And of course he wasn't as oblivious as Church hoped he would be, so he just turned around and faced the ravenette, brows lifting in a happy manner as he sat the pen in his hand down.

"Hey,.." he began shyly, gaining Connor's full attention who seemed to be strangely working on some papers that he'd normally do in his personal office. So this was kinda uncommon. He chose to ignore it though, walking around and sinking into the couch softly as its cushions went pretty much to the ground underneath the weight.

"Good evening Elder. Is there something you need help with?"

James, as prepared as always, had been practicing and mentally rehearsing the words in his head for as long as he's been awake. Obviously rethinking a lot, but more than keen to bring them across his lips. He gave the other gentle glances, playing with his fingers in his lap and picking on his jeans that felt a little queasy against his skin after sleeping in them for what seemed to be 8 or 9 hours.

"No, uh, it's nothing. I think at least. Just.. thought I'd join you." He stated half-truthfully, averting his gaze for a moment before staring right back into Connor's blue eyes, almost subconsciously.

"Oh? Well... Well okay. I'll get back to work then." He replied cheekily, then turned back to face the papers on the small coffee table in front of them, ticking a few small boxes with his pen as he looked over the sheets and signed his last name at the bottom of every page.

Was James really man enough to say what has been on his mind for the past few weeks now? The thoughts which he wished he would be able to push down for longer than he could? That he was utterly attracted to a man he counted as his best, if not only friend? He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he gave the other a once-over, almost 100% sure he'd daze off in the wrong direction if he'd continue.

"Um, actually, Co- Elder McKinley?" he drifted the conversation onwards quickly before he'd lose the string of strength that was barely tied around his pinky.

"Yes, Elder?"

Another deep breath was taken, the back of his head feeling empty as more air seemed to leave his chest rather than staying inside him.

"I'm sorry." He muttered bashfully, the words leaving his lips like cold butter on warm toast.

"What for?" McKinley took another sip from his coffee cup, swirling the drink around for a moment before placing it down on the table in front of them, a little 'clink' resonating from it.

There was absolutely no reason for him to be sorry for feeling emotion after so much repression, that got worse over the past few months and heavily increased day by day, James knew that. But would it stop him from ranting? Definitely not.

"For being a jerk to you. I know that what I said and did wasn't right of me. And I should know better than that. Especially because we're all trained by professionals to be nice and all that crap, but who am I kidding? I'm not- I'm not made to be what these people want me to be. I should've told you earlier probably, I don't know- maybe before the mission even started? But god I- I seriously- give me a moment," here would go nothing. He'd be spilling all the tea now, shove it down the redhead's throat if he had to. Maybe even run around with a pot and pan and smash them together to get everyone's attention and then scream it out loud like he wasn't ashamed of it. As if it was 'normal' to feel those feelings. For _boys_. _As_ a boy. Tears started building in his eyes and before he knew it, he chugged the last bit of self-doubt down and continued,

"I don't- I don't think I like girls, Elder McKinley. And I know that's wrong as heck, and I don't want to disgust or scare you or anything- god no, I would hate, really hate to scare you off, but I think- I think as my friend you should know. As my roommate. As- Companion. Whatever." He tried analyzing the mix of expressions that were being mirrored onto Connor's face, shock, confusion, and mostly worry adorning it.

_Here goes nothing._

"And I want to tell you that," He took in a huge breath from the bottom of his lungs, feeling them deflate as the words finally passed his lips. " _that I think I'm in love with you._ "

He was pretty sure it was very much unreadable now though. Mouth agape, eyes wide, cheeks dusted red for some reason, fingers clenching his knees. If he had a jinn right now, he'd wish for answers to what the boy was thinking right now. And he'd wish for more luck in life because, as it seemed, he just lost the only boy he ever loved to disgust as he watched his face change and twitch.

"I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I should go-"

But as quick as he turned around on the sofa to leave, heart daring to jump out of its' bitter cage, he felt lips press onto his own in mere seconds, pulling him in like the endless void. So warm and delicate he could've lost himself in them. So stunningly comforting that he could only close his eyes and trust the process. So absolutely nerve-destroying he could've sworn his body went numb for a moment there. Then, whilst he trembled against Connor's lips a little and continuously leaned further and further in, a hand snuck up to his neck and tugged at his shirt so softly, he genuinely thought he might pass out and die from a heatstroke - that's how velvet his face turned. Those lips that he never thought he'd even get to touch with his bare hands, now so sweetly pressed up against his own - he couldn't let that opportunity to go to waste.

Softly moving, no, quickly hopping over until he was almost on the other's lap, not breaking the kiss for even a second, whether it be to take a breath or just stop completely, he worked himself through it like a puzzle, curiously testing how far he could go (almost like a toddler), and if - and if taking his hands and holding them gently within his own was okay with Connor. And God did it feel refreshing when he didn't pull back like he thought he would. He felt like he suddenly flew high up on cloud nine with the other, inching closer to get as much out of this as he could.

A chaste hand laid itself on his cheek, a second thought occurring, a thought that almost made him pull away, but then just lean in more and more. He was so high on what people would describe as love, as it was tantalizing, charming, sweet, perturbing, but most importantly - affectionate. Affection was a funny thing for James. Something he didn't necessarily lean on during hard periods of his life, rather despised if you prefer. Showing affection meant trouble. Showing the emotions that came with love meant trouble. And oh, how many times he said he didn't want a hug. That he didn't want someone to brush his shoulder like that, even if it wasn't on purpose. That he didn't want an uncontrollable emotion to take over and make his life harder than it already was.

As Connor pushed himself further onto his lips, he gave a neat little tug to his tie in response, eyes still glued shut in fear of never being able to close them again after this.

That, and he didn't want to look vulnerable again. Affection felt too safe for his taste. Too safe to be true. Sounded too voodoo to exist without having to sacrifice something in return. Like a limb, or his tongue or something. Maybe his ability to speak? Not sure. Then again, who knew? It's not like someone ever decided to be so intimate with him before this very much godsent kiss. He needed reassurance before daring to even set a foot in those heavy waters he could easily trip into and drown under - lots of it in fact. But as their shared moment slowly came to an end, he realized how much he actually begged for it to last longer. Felt his grip on the others tie tighten and his jaw clench uncomfortably. Would've even whispered ' _don't stop please_ ' if it wasn't for how alive and at the same time dead his mouth felt from all this.

Then, sadly, as fast as it had begun, the kiss ended and their faces split again, James only intention being to go for it again, just to taste these lips again.

A wave of silence hit them. Booming silence that wavered through the room like cold air on a breezy winter night. James' lips were still sewn together, unable to speak his clouded mind that still wanted more of the other. They sat and watched one another as if they were each other's prey, waiting for one of them to make the first move - or start the first conversation after what had just happened. He hoped Connor would make the first move, whether it be a plain hand on his knee to calm his nerves or another kiss, he'd definitely be happy over both. But what if he didn't like it at all? What if he did something wrong that made him stop in the first place? Worry overwashed silence and the invisible threads that kept his mouth shut suddenly ripped, now able to take a deep breath before pushing the words through his throat.

He croaked lamentably, "Did you- would- why did you kiss me?"

Connor answered with a light chuckle, not to make fun of the other, but because his face was so burning red he reminded him of a tomato.

"You seemed so uncertain. I thought I'd help you out."

He watched him grab his hand, and then lean in again.

**Author's Note:**

> asjdajksdkajhsd sorry i haven't written in a while but my motivation was literally gone 😌
> 
> anyway, hope y'alls enjoyed this rarepair that no one will ever acknowledge except for me and two of my friends but uhh posting it anyway because this took 3 weeks and this is by far my best work. yay.
> 
> please leave criticism because my friend is just head over heels in love with this whilst I despise it already 👄


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